Unexpected Company
by haleigh91
Summary: Emma Swan had decided that absolutely nothing good could come from a canceled flight, especially when she was stuck in the airport alone for the night. But when smooth talking Killian Jones waltzes into her life, he might just change her mind. Captain Swan AU.
1. Chapter 1

_Flight 815 from Boston to Chicago has been cancelled. Please check the board or visit the information desk to reschedule your flight._

"Perfect," Emma grumbled sarcastically amongst the bustling crowd of the terminal, her perfectly manicured hand blindly grabbing her rolling carry on bag. She gripped the handle until her knuckles began to turn white, biting at her lip enough to draw blood.

She was supposed to land in Chicago in three hours; the bachelorette party started at nine. And now she was going to miss it. (The maid of honor missing the bachelorette party? Not a good start to a best friends wedding).

Taking a deep breath, Emma began to work her way through the mass of people, hundreds displaced from the cancelled flight. It was chaos, pure and simple. An overweight, bald man bumped into her shoulder setting her off balance, grumbling angrily under his breath.

_Keep calm and you can make it through this weekend_, Emma mentally told herself, avoiding the angry man's gaze and heading towards the information desk. Her heels clicked mechanically on the tile floor and she willed herself to focus on that – not the bad news that sure lay ahead of her. Just the thought of this weekend was enough to turn her stomach.

Emma was never one to believe in fairy tales or love at first sight. She was a tough as nails bail bonds person who wouldn't take crap from anyone. So being the maid of honor at her best friend Mary-Margaret's wedding had never been on her to do list. But even Emma couldn't refuse the adorable pout the pixie-haired girl displayed when she had asked her to be a bridesmaid.

So now she had been sucked into a world of fantasy – just praying to make it through the weekend.

Another shove from a rude woman pulled her out of her thoughts, abruptly spinning her mind into chaos and worry as she scurried to the counter. Pushing her way through the crowd, Emma finally made to make it to the desk, a brunette lady in her mid-fifties sat behind it – fake smile plastered on her face.

"I need the next plane to Chicago," Emma quickly announced, giving a frustrated eye roll when the woman carefully took her time, apparently not in any hurry.

The lady shuffled a few papers before glancing back up at the blonde. "I'm sorry. The next flight is full. You'll have to wait till the next one after, which is…" Her voice trailed off as she clicked around on the computer, Emma eagerly awaiting her answer. "Looks like the next flight isn't until tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow?! I can't wait till tomorrow," Emma shouted, leaning over the desk (she wouldn't be surprised if smoke was literally coming out of her ears right now). "Listen, you _have_ to get me on that plane. I have a wedding to get to!"

The sickly-sweet fake smile returned. "I'm sorry, ma'am. There's nothing I can do. You're more than welcome to spend the night here until your plane arrives at 5 AM in the morning."

Inhaling through her nose, Emma clenched her teeth as the woman continued to busy herself with other matters, Emma's problem long forgotten. Frustrated, she clung to her suitcase, muttering angrily to herself as she marched towards the outer wall beyond the crowd, the glass windows reflecting light and proudly showcasing the aircraft outside.

Emma glared at the plane – _stupid plane, stupid mechanical problems_ – before finding an unoccupied outlet and plopping down next to it, sticking her phone charger in the wall in the process. At least she wasn't the only one displaced, she thought to herself, glancing around the lounge at hundreds of others who were stuck just like her. With the mood she was in, though, Emma didn't feel like dealing with people. So even though she was inside, she slipped the sunglasses over her eyes and leaned back against the wall, eyes closing and legs splayed out and crossed in front of her.

If she could make it through these few hours, maybe the wedding weekend from hell wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

><p><em>7:00 PM<em>

A rough kick on her foot jolted her awake. She had only been asleep a meager thirty minutes when the stranger aroused her from her nap.

"Excuse me, miss?"

The thick accent caught her attention, but the sleep still hung close. She shifted in her slumber, trying her best to ignore the intruder. He was persistent, though, kicking her foot once again.

"Helllllo?" he called out, waving his hand in front of her face, causing Emma to hastily pull her sunglasses off.

"What?" she snapped before her eyes met his and everything seemed to stop.

Blue. That was the first thing she noticed – how intense blue his eyes were. It struck Emma in an unnerving way and her chest ached at the mere sight of him. The messy mop of dark locks only added to his insanely good looks. And to top it all off, he had an accent. Emma couldn't help how she was immediately drawn to him. The only accurate phrase she could think of to describe him was "sex on legs" (but even that didn't do him justice).

"Sorry," he apologize, nervously scratching the thin layer of scruff along his chiseled jaw. (_God, could he be any more perfect?)_ "I was just wondering if you wouldn't mind sharing."

Emma blinked at him – still a bit in the daze that was _him_. "Huh?"

"The outlet," he pointed to the wall beside her where her phone was plugged in, the outlet below hers unoccupied. "I need to charge my phone and this is the only place that isn't being used at the moment."

"Oh," she replied, realization dawning on her face as she drew her eyes up his lean form, her insides definitely not turning into mush at the moment. "Um…sure" She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, brilliant smile covering his handsome face.

(_Yes, her insides were definitely mush now._)

Sitting his bag down unceremoniously on the floor, he sat down beside her, accidently brushing his shoulder against hers in the process – _completely an accident_, she reminded herself, slipping her glasses back over her eyes to avoid him.

As much as she tingled inside from his touch and even a simple look from him, Emma knew that she didn't have time for this, for him, or for any guys at that matter. Fairy tales were not real and no matter how amazing this man seemed at first glance, no one was perfect. Everyone is flawed – and if anyone knew that, it was Emma.

All she had to do was make it through the night. Just a few hours and she would be thousands of feet in the air heading towards Chicago.

She could do this (she hoped, at least).

* * *

><p><em>9:00 PM<em>

They had managed to keep conversation to a minimum - thankfully, to Emma. Her body was tilted away from his, curled up against the wall. She tried her best to block him out – his constant humming and thumping and the ever-occasional smile he tossed her way when she got caught glancing at him. In embarrassment, she shoved the earphones over her pink-tinged ears once again, rolling her emerald eyes and turning her attention back to her cell phone, Netflix ready and waiting.

It had only been two hours. How was she going to make it through the rest of the night?

"What'cha watching?" the man questioned, using his hand to playfully pull her headphones off of her ears, Emma throwing him an annoyed look in return.

"None of your business," she quickly retorted as she pushed them back onto her ears, avoiding his gaze at all cost. She could see his body deflate at the rejection – obviously something the handsome bastard wasn't used to.

It was only another minute, though, before she felt him tap her arm. In annoyance, she spun her body around, an exasperated sigh escaping her lips as blonde curls tumbled dramatically over her shoulders. "What?!"

"Name's Killian Jones."

He smiled at first, but his grin faltered when she didn't respond, instead choosing to raise her eyebrows at him as if saying '_and your point is?_' He sighed – this woman was definitely going to be a force to be reckoned with. "You know usually when someone says their name it is polite to introduce yourself back."

"And why would I do that?" she bit back fiercely, crossing her arms protectively against her chest; it was a defense mechanism. Emma had learned early in life to never trust anyone. Don't let them in and you won't get hurt.

Scratching behind his ears, his blue eyes caught hers (and all hoped seemed to be lost). "Well it looks as if we're going to be stuck here awhile, love. Might as well get to know my company."

The intense gaze lasted only a minute before she dropped her shoulders, huffing in response. "Fine. It's Emma. Emma Swan." His face lit up at the sound of her name, 'Swan' rolling easily off of his own tongue, almost as if he were testing it out – the taste sweet and wonderful in his mouth.

"And I'm not your love," Emma quickly added (no need in leading him on). He chuckled – it was deep and throaty and it reverberated all the way into her soul. This was not starting out well.

"Ah, you're a tough lass. Well don't worry," he leaned over, his lips dangerously close to her ear, breath hot against her creamy skin. "I like a challenge."

Emma had to force her lips not to curve into a smile – the obviously cocky attitude from this man not only getting under her skin, but pricking her heart as well. Without a word, she shoved the earphones back on. The more she listened to him – his smooth accent accelerating her heart rate – the more she wanted to open up to him.

(And that was _not_ an option).

* * *

><p><em>9:25 PM<em>

She had made it through almost a good thirty minutes of ignoring him (and she could just feel his eyes on her, taking in her golden locks and fair skin before trailing her body down to her toned legs, exposed from her knee-length skirt). Her jaw clenched on instinct, eyes remaining on the phone screen in her hand. She had hardly spoken a few sentences to the man and he was already intriguing her.

She felt the headphones slowly slip off of her ear, his voice quickly replacing it. "You know he's going to die, right?" he teased, pointing to the man on her phone screen (an early episode of "Lost" playing; she had only started Season 3 recently and if there was one thing she _loathed_, it was spoilers).

"Shut up," she playfully (and perhaps a bit in irritation) commanded, shoving against his arm. "Don't ruin this for me, Jones. I _hate_ spoilers."

"Easy there, Swan," he chuckled, rubbing at his arm as if she had actually injured him. "I didn't realize you were so passionate about your television shows."

Emma scoffed, finally slipping the headphones off of her ears completely, twisting the wires in her hands as her emerald eyes avoided him. "You don't know me at all."

He stopped, studying her face intently until he finally caught her gaze – fear clearly written all over her face. And with all of the sincerity he could muster, he responded with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Perhaps I'd like to."

She felt a burn in her chest, an ache that she hadn't experienced in years. No one had ever been this open and honest with her (especially after only knowing her for a few short hours). Realizing that her jaw had been hanging slack in awe, Emma quickly shut it, tucking a stray curl behind her ear as she finally managed to look away - hoping, praying that he had missed the small smiled that had formed on her face.

(He hadn't).

* * *

><p><em>11:45 PM<em>

"You've got to be kidding me!" Emma laughed as she turned his left wrist around in her hands, the jagged scar that was marred on his skin proudly displayed. "You were attacked by a dog?"

"It was a _big_ dog," he defended in mock hurt, clearly embarrassed by his story. Their laughter mixed together, her fingers burning his skin as she idly traced the scar before quickly letting his wrist go, almost as if an electric shock had been sent through her body. His blue eyes, intrigued by her every movement, never left hers.

Emma hadn't even realized that it had been over two hours since she had abandoned her phone, Netflix still on pause as their conversation turned from one thing into another, finally landing on their personal scars. She had showed him her scars, her stories, her personal testimony of the hurt she had experienced.

She smiled as she dropped his wrist, him quickly pulling it back into his side. With a nod of her head, Emma motioned to the luggage sitting next to him, the one he had not let out of his sight all night. "So what's in the box?"

Now it was Killian's turn to smile. She saw the way he lit up and immediately knew it was something of importance to him. With pride, he ran his fingers over the case, fingering the locks before clicking them open. "It's my guitar."

"Oh. You play?"

"No, I just carry it around for fun," he sarcastically replied with a chuckle, giving her a teasing look as he lifted it from it's case. "Of course. I'm in a band."

To say that Emma was shocked was an understatement. She was genuinely surprised at his talent (and seeing him with the instrument only made him that much more attractive, the thrum of his skilled fingers against the cords sending heat low in her belly) "Really? Is that why you were heading to Chicago?"

"Aye," he responded, lazily plucking the strings to a soft tune. "I'm playing at my good friend David's wedding."

She stopped. There was absolutely no way. Out of the whole known universe, they were both heading to the same wedding. She swallowed the lump in her throat (it lodged uncomfortably inside, almost the size of Boston) and spoke, her voice cracked and dry. "The Nolan-Blanchard wedding?"

"Aye." Killian's fingers stopped playing as he sat up and faced her in confusion, eyebrows scrunching in concentration. "You know them?"

"Know them?" she laughed, soft and slowly. "I'm the maid of honor!"

"Well what a small world!" he cooed before leaning over towards her, wiggling his eyebrows as he spoke. "Now I must request that you save a dance for me."

Emma's lips tilted down into a frown as she was now the one who was confused. "Won't you kind of be playing the music?"

"Don't worry, darling. I'll improvise," he winked, the blue eyes disappearing for only a second before opening back up and focusing on her. Her heart skipped a beat at the gesture.

It was definitely going to be a long night.

* * *

><p><em>1:15 AM<em>

"Okay, so now you have to get a run of seven," Emma explained as she peered at him over the colorful cards that were fanned out in her hands, giggling at him as he squinted and bit his bottom lip in concentration.

"What the bloody hell is a run of seven?" he questioned, his face growing redder by the minute. They had been playing Phase 10 for over thirty minutes, and Killian, well, quite honestly – he sucked.

Emma playfully rolled her eyes at him. Of course, she had to explain every detail of the game to him. Normally, this would irritate her – but he looked so cute holding the cards up to his face, legs crisscrossed under him. She smiled before scooting closer to him. "It means you have to get seven cards numerically in a row. Like numbers one through seven."

"This game is ridiculous, love," Killian declared as he slammed his cards down on the carpeted airport floor where they sat.

"You're only saying that because I'm three phases ahead of you! Looks like someone is a sore loser," she sung in triumph.

"How about a coffee?" he questioned as he jumped up, wiping his hands (and the nonexistent sweat) on his pants, ignoring the abandoned cards on the floor.

"Oh, apparently you like to change the subject as well. Besides, our flight is in four hours. Don't you think we need to get some sleep?"

"Nah," Killian replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "Gives me more time to get to know you."

And with a wink and a smirk, he was gone – bolting off awkwardly through the terminal to find some overpriced, disguising airport coffee for them to chug in their last few hours together; wandering through the maze of other stranded passengers who had already decided to retire for the evening.

How was this even possible? With a brilliant smile, soft blue eyes, and cheap coffee – he had somehow managed to work his way into her long-hardened heart.

* * *

><p><em>3:05 AM<em>

The airport had finally settled down, the only people in sight were the workers – who were definitely not happy by any means to be working the night shift – and the other passengers waiting for the same flight that they were. The lights were dimmed, the moon and stars shinning brightly through the glass lining the wall.

They had shifted from the middle of the room, to lounge on the floor against the chairs, their legs crossed out in front of them as they gazed into the night sky, his arm cautiously slung behind her on the chair she was propped up against (his fingers brushing her shoulders every now and then, the chills never leaving her as she appreciated the warmth his body was giving off next to her).

"Okay," he whispered, his mouth too close to her ear (and oddly, not close enough). "Truth or dare?"

"What are you, five?" She chuckled as she shook her head, blonde curls bouncing around her. And although she had not had any alcohol during their night together – only the coffee he had finally brought her – she felt drunk. Light. Happy.

"Come on, Swan," he begged, probably a bit from sleep deprivation. "We have to stay entertained somehow."

The pout on his lips and the puppy dog eyes were enough to make her cave so easily. "Fine. Truth."

"Favorite color?" he easily inquired, the words rolling right off his smooth tongue.

"Really? Out of all the questions in the world, you ask for my favorite color?"

"Just curious." Killian shrugged his shoulders as he picked at the loose fabric on his shirt.

"It's red," she finally admitted before turning to him. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare," Killian challenged, running his tongue across his bottom lip suggestively with a wiggle of his thick eyebrows.

"Hmm…" Emma tapped her chin dramatically before a sly smile crept onto her face. "I dare you to lick the window."

"Gross," he gasped, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Do you have any idea how many snotty nosed children have pressed their faces against that window?"

This sent Emma into a full belly laugh – which earned her a few 'shhhs' from nearby people who were trying to sleep – as she clutched her sides in only slight discomfort. "Oh, does the man concede?"

"Not bloody likely!" Killian put on a brave face before slowly lifting himself up, walking the short march to the windows, quickly sticking his tongue against the cold pane – only causing Emma's laughter to grow.

He mumbled as he plopped back down next to her, his arm immediately going back to its close place behind her. "If I die, Swan, it will be all your fault."

"Oh you'll survive," Emma joked as she playfully elbowed him in the side.

The questions continued – favorite food, favorite movie line, most embarrassing moment, describe your first crush. In all honesty, there were more truth questions than there were dares (much to Killian's delight. He yearned to know this woman more, even if they had just met. There was something about her that drew him in. They were kindred spirits – they had both experienced their fair share of pain and heartbreak).

"Alright love, truth or dare?" he asked. Their little game had been going for almost half an hour (and in that short time frame Emma had learned more about him than she had known about a man in a very long time – and truthfully, that scared her).

Without a second thought she answered, "Truth."

Killian shook his head, the short laughter dying on his lips. "Will you ever pick dare?"

"Nope," she responded, emphasizing the 'p' as she leaned her head back, not concerned with the fact that it had made contact with his arm.

(And if he had shuffled closer and pulled his arm to rest lightly on her shoulders, she pretended she hadn't noticed).

"Didn't think so," he smirked before turning his attention to her, face now growing serious. "How did your last real relationship end?"

Emma released a sigh. She had known that if the game continued, it would eventually move from the easy elementary questions to more serious matters. "It was several years ago. We just grew apart. I was more focused on my job and he wanted more. It just didn't work out. What about you?"

Killian frowned, shrugging his shoulders in response. "Never really had a real relationship."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. This man was literally a sex god and he had never been in a relationship? Emma tried not to let her curiosity get the best of her, aptly avoiding his gaze as she folded and refolded her hands in her lap. "You? That's surprising."

"I know. Until recently, I only wanted one-night stands and the like. No strings meant no pain."

It was truly uncanny how similar he was to her – in just one mere night he had taken her by surprise and opened her up in a way that left her feeling raw and vulnerable. Having this kind of closeness with someone opened the cage of butterflies in her stomach as she turned to him. She was well aware of the way his arm dropped to her shoulders, pulling her closer as their sides finally allowed themselves to touch. With a whisper she spoke, the truth and sincerity dripping in her voice. "You and I are more alike than I cared to admit, Killian Jones."

He studied her face for a minute, the moon and stars shining in on their sprawled forms, lighting up her dazzling emerald eyes. There was no denying the magnetic pull between them. Killian's gaze flickered down to her lips before making its way back to her eyes. "Since I know that you're always going to say truth, what are you thinking right now?"

Emma could feel his breath hot against her face, causing her heart rate to rapidly increase. The haze of slight sleep deprivation hanging over her still, making her dizzy. She would later blame the next few moments of honesty on that. Biting her bottom lip, eyes still connected, she responded. "I've never been more glad for a canceled flight in my entire life. What are you thinking?"

When his forehead dropped to hers, Emma couldn't help the sharp intake of breath she gave at the intimate contact, her eyelids fluttering shut in response. "How much I want to kiss you right now."

Emma felt the ghost of his lips against hers. This was the moment where she had two options – run (which was her normal choice) or take a risk. And right now, a risk just felt right. So, grabbing the collar of his shirt, she pulled them closer together, whispering sincerely against his lips, "I dare ya."

Within seconds, his lips were on hers: soft, sweet, _tender_. Emma felt the familiar butterflies dance madly within as he kissed her. She had never felt this much intimacy and passion with a man – even during her one-night stands. Killian had opened her up in an unexplainable way. And for once, she wasn't going to run from it.

* * *

><p><em>4:45 AM<em>

"Well, love, it looks like boarding is about to start," Killian stated, pulling himself up and wrapping his hands around hers, hauling her up to stand next to him. He bent down to pick up his guitar case, his fingers quickly finding hers after.

Although it was still dark outside, and quiet in the terminal, life was beginning to stir as passengers started lining up in the queue area. He eyed the growing line, pulling out his ticket and glancing down at it.

"Which boarding group are you in?" she questioned him, watching him intently as his eyes scanned the ticket.

"Group 1," Killian answered, scratching behind his ear – a nervous tic that she had already noted. "I have a priority boarding pass."

"Oh. I'm in Group 2." Her body deflated a bit, realizing that they were now going to be separated. In the time they had known each other, Emma had grown very fond of him and his company.

"_Group One, you may now board. Group One, you may now board the aircraft." _The loudspeaker crackled next to the pair, causing them to cringe.

"Don't worry, Swan," he paused, flicking a blonde curl over her shoulder before giving her a quick peck on the forehead, slinging his duffel over his shoulder in the process. "We'll see each other at the wedding. You've promised me a dance, remember?"

"That I did," she beamed, nodding her head as she watched him walk away, taking his place in line behind the others. Emma observed the area around her, the crowd beginning to grow as people waited for their group to be called.

"Emma!"

She glanced around the room to find him – she could already recognize the lilt of his voice, even in a crowded and busy airport. The cerulean eyes stood out to her, his brilliant and toothy grin consuming his face.

"Where are you sitting?" he called over the noise. Digging through her bag, Emma pulled out her ticket, reading the fine print to find her seat number. When she couldn't find it, her brows scrunched in confusion, until she found the phrase that made her heart soar.

_No assigned seating. Pick any seat._

Her smirk mirrored his as she glanced up and shouted back. "Next to you."

Her eyes never left his form as he disappeared into the tunnel that connected to the aircraft. Emma smiled to herself– pleased that she had been given the opportunity to meet this man. Maybe her hard heart could be softened. And maybe, just maybe, this unexpected stranger could break her walls once and for all.

She had decided that Killian Jones would be worth the risk.


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, so this was originally a oneshot but I just couldn't help expanding it. In fact, I have now planned for this story to be three parts total. We'll just see where it goes. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em>5:00 A.M.<em>

Emma shoved herself into the crowded airplane, the long aisle in front of her littered with unstowed carry on bags, screaming children, and abandoned airsick bags. She stuffed the ticket into her purse, slipping the strap back onto her shoulder with a grumble. From the looks of it already, this flight was going to be hell. But there was only one thing that was the shining light in the midst of the foggy situation – him.

Her eyes searched the plane for Killian, not having to look far as twinkling blue eyes were already staring back at her, his smug smile consuming his face. Emma's stomach lurched at the sight of him (and it had only been twenty minutes since she'd last seen him). Avoiding the small, crying toddler at her feet, Emma quickly made her way to him a few rows back.

By the time she had made her way to his seat, though, her stomach dropped at the sight in front of her. A pretty bleach blonde had dipped her head down near his (no doubt to show off her ridiculous amount of cleavage), whispering "Is this seat taken?" all while twirling her straight locks around her fuchsia fingernails.

"Actually it is," he confirmed, turning his head to throw a quick wink her way. "Hello, love." The blonde turned around to face Emma, a disgusted look on her face as she pushed past her with a scoff.

Emma gave a proud smirk to the girl, a rough push against her shoulder, before she turned to Killian, flopping down in the seat next to him. "Hi," she breathed out softly, a gleam in her eye and a knot tight in her chest.

He smiled back at her, anxiously biting his bottom lip, the air thickening around them in the crowded airplane. It seemed odd that he would be this nervous (after all, he had practically made out with her in the middle of the airport). But when she smiled back at him, he couldn't help the little flip that his stomach did at just the sight of her.

As she sat her bag down, Killian cleared his throat - and also tried to gain control of his rapidly beating heart. "It's good to see you again, Swan."

"It's only been twenty minutes," she laughed (and it was insane how he was already obsessed with that laugh), buckling her seat belt and giving it a tug in the process.

"Well it was a long twenty minutes," he clarified sarcastically, eyebrows raising high accompanied by the signature smirk. "Besides, you sure looked jealous when that girl almost took your seat."

"Me? Jealous?" Emma laughed – it was light and different, as if she were almost having fun for once, patting him playfully on the arm. "Dream on, buddy."

The plane jolted with a start, pulling the pair out of their conversation, taxing to the runway and pushing the passengers back in their seats. Emma took a deep breath to steady herself, popping a stick of mint gum in her mouth and picking up one of the overused magazines from the compartment in front of her to mindlessly thumb through. Flying was now second nature to Emma. As a bail bonds person, she was often commissioned for higher cases, traveling short distances across the nearby states to complete her job.

The airplane started to pick up speed, moving faster down the runway as it tried to pick up enough wind to take off. Emma chewed her gum in silence, daydreaming about nonsense, turning her head to give the man beside her a half smile. But what she didn't expect was the sight in front of her.

Killian's hand was place firmly on the armrest, knuckles almost turning white from the tension in his grip. His face was flushed and breathing laboring – eyes shut tight in anticipation. Emma was taken aback. Who would have known that this overly confident man was actually afraid of flying?

"Killian?" Emma cautiously whispered, inching closer to him so that the other passengers wouldn't overhear their conversation. "Are you okay?"

"I'm…I'm fine, love. Just peachy," he managed to breathe out between gritted teeth, his jaw clenched tightly in anxiety.

"Are you sure?" she pressed, eyebrows scrunched in concern. "Because it doesn't seem so-"

"Emma," he interrupted, his voice stern and a bit harsh. "I'm fine. Just drop it."

Glancing down at his hand, fingers clutching on to the armrest desperately, Emma placed her hand on top of his, smoothing her fingers of his rougher ones and stroking his thumb.

"It's okay to be scared of flying, Killian. You could have just told me."

His tense body relaxed somewhat at the soothing sound of her voice, a calming element in the midst of a raging storm, her finger bringing him down with just a simple touch, heat and sparks igniting within. He released a small sigh as the plane lifted off the ground, their stomachs dropping with the change. Turning her hand over in his, he intertwined their fingers, giving her hand a small squeeze as the plane dipped slightly as it made it's way through the gloomy clouds (causing a sharp intake of breath from him and a light giggle from her).

"You can hold my hand the entire flight if it will make you feel better," she confirmed, snuggling into her seat to get comfortable as the flying started to even out – as well as Killian's breathing.

"Oh, darling," he purred, raising her hand to his lips to press a gentle kiss to each knuckle, his eyes never leaving hers (Emma could feel the heat rising to her cheeks and warmth spread throughout her body, tingling within as she remembered those lips against hers earlier – so smooth and gentle and _god, he was such a good kisser_), "I plan to."

* * *

><p><em>8:00 A.M.<em>

The rest of the flight proceeded as smoothly as the night had progressed between the pair. Emma and Killian kept their conversation going throughout their journey – talking of everything and nothing all together. Their chat came to a halt though as a sleepy yawn came from Emma, prompting her to lean her head on Killian's shoulder. Between their incessant talking (they just couldn't get enough of each other) neither had found the time to actually sleep. Killian smiled down at the sleeping woman – her blonde hair flowing around her like a halo; she was truly a vision – before he placed his head gently against hers allowing himself to fall asleep as well.

"_Ladies and gentleman, we will be landing shortly. Please return your tray tables into their upright position and remain seated. Welcome to Chicago."_

The feminine voice of the flight attendant crackled overhead, waking Killian from his short nap as he lifted his head from its place against hers. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, glancing down at a peaceful Emma. Drawing one of her golden curls around his calloused fingers, he dipped his lips close to her ear, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip.

"Swan," he whispered, stroking her curls with adoration (not able to control the smile that spread across his tired face). "It's time to wake up, love."

She shifted in her sleep, mumbling incoherently about something, which earned a short chuckle from Killian. Stringing his fingers through her locks, he spoke softly, "Come on, lass. Don't make this harder than it has to be."

Emma groaned as her eyes fluttered open, squinting at the brightness inside the plane, the sun streaming in through the small windows. Killian noticed her uneasiness and slipped the visor shut, blocking out only a portion of the light.

"Thanks," she muttered, rubbing at her eyes and then proceeding to lift her arms high above her head in a stretch. "That was a quick flight."

"Well," he snickered, pushing a loose curl out of her face, "you were asleep for the last hour. And you snore."

"I do not!" she protested, slapping him playfully across the chest, which he attempted to block with a laugh.

"Now you're awake, Swan," he beamed, as if it had been his plan all along. He looked down at their hands, still intertwined, and gave her hand a squeeze (the jolt shooting up her arm and spreading warmth throughout her tired body). With a smile, he leaned his forehead against hers. "Good morning."

"Good morning to you, too," Emma giggled, her nose brushing against his – the movement of her skin against his flesh doing insane things inside her body; with him it was getting hard to keep control (even though she had only known him for less than a day).

A cough pulled them out of their hypnotic trance; their eyes locked as his breath mixed with hers. "Excuse me, lovebirds, but it's time to clear the aircraft."

Emma jumped a little at the annoyed flight attendant's voice from behind her, her face turning red in embarrassment as she realized that the majority of the plane had already cleared. The pair was too enthralled with each other that they had hardly noticed the landing and disembarking of their fellow guests.

"Sorry about that," Emma muttered, avoiding eye contact as she heard a snigger from Killian, obviously proud that he had caused this.

The flight attendant left just as Killian pulled her up to stand close to him, wrapping one arm around her waist as the other was trapped between their warm bodies – their fingers still locked tightly, sandwiched against them. He placed a short kiss to her forehead, tingling with the slightest touch. "Come on, love. It's about time we go."

After picking up their carry-on bags, the pair left the plane hand in hand, walking through the crowded Chicago airport without a care in the world. They finally arrived at the baggage claim, awkwardly avoiding the elephant in the room, so to speak.

Even though they had just met, Emma had never felt closer to anyone in her entire life. She wasn't used to opening up fully to someone (must less, someone she hardly knew). But that was the problem. Emma felt like she had known Killian her entire life. Their connection was undeniable and it saddened Emma to have to sever it for the time being.

"Don't worry, love. I'll see you at the wedding," he reminded her, pulling her into a gentle hug, his warm arms wrapped around her thin frame as her head lay on his chest, his heart beating steadily beneath her ear. "And don't forget, you owe me a dance!"

She chuckled against him, his body shaking with laughter against her. "Trust me, you won't let me forget."

"Of course not," Killian smirked, pulling out of her embrace to run his finger along her chin, thumping at the little dimple that had made its spot on her cheek. "See you later, Swan."

And then for the first time in hours, he disconnected their hands, grabbed his bags and vanished into the crowd – leaving Emma alone, confused, anxious. The loneliness left her cold as she crawled into herself, pushing aside her feelings before picking up her luggage and hailing a taxi.

* * *

><p><em>5:55 P.M. – The Next Night<em>

The squeal of delighted girls filled the room as dresses swished and nerves ran high. Makeup brushes were scattered everywhere amongst the hair curlers and straighteners, six pairs of heels finally finding their owners as the wedding director stuck his head in the door.

"Five minutes ladies!" he called quickly, shutting the door behind him as the girls rushed faster to finish only minutes before the big moment.

Emma smoothed her hands over the dress, the emerald satin of the strapless dress landing mid-thigh, exposing her long, lean legs. She forced a smile towards Mary-Margaret who was blushing happily in the mirror as she adjusted her veil one last time.

Mary-Margaret was a rare friend and Emma was truly happy for her and David. The pair had been assigned as roommates during their college years and had been inseparable ever since. She was Emma's best friend and the blonde knew that she deserved this happiness more than anyone.

Slipping her heels on, Emma stood up to come stand behind the bride, her hands settling on the pixie haired girl's shoulders. "You ready?" she asked, their eyes connecting in the mirror.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Mary-Margaret breathed out, exhaling with her hand placed firmly on her stomach to calm the nerves.

"David is going to be speechless. You look beautiful, Mary-Margaret," Emma commented, turning the bride around to hold both of her hands in hers – the swish of her dress sending a beautiful melody into the calming room.

"Thank you, Emma," she blushed, ducking her head slightly. "And thank you for being my maid of honor. I can only hope that one day I'll be able to return the favor."

Now it was Emma's turn to blush, which didn't happen very often. She wasn't one to get embarrassed, especially over a subject that she normally shot down so quickly. But with the interesting addition of Killian to her life – not that she was in any way considering marrying him (seriously, she had _just_ met the guy) – Emma was now giving second thoughts to her ideas on marriage, with whoever it may be someday.

Seeing the complete joy in Mary-Margaret's face sent a twinge of jealousy shooting up Emma's spine. She wanted that. That complete happiness from knowing that someone actually cared about you, that they wanted to spend the entirety of their life with you and you alone. It settled deep beneath Emma's breastbone and made her breath catch. Shaking the thoughts from her head, she tried her best to swallow the lump forming in her throat, focusing her thoughts instead on her blissful friend.

Emma opened her mouth to reply when Ruby, another bridesmaid and one of the pair's other best friend, popped between the two, bouncing excitedly and grinning widely – her mass of dark brown locks with red-tinged streaks bobbing along with her. "She's right, Emma! And I have just the guy. He's perfect for you! I can totally set you two up!"

"Ruby," Emma sighed, placing a hand on the excited girl's shoulder, "today is not about me. It's Mary-Margaret's day. Besides I don't need you to set me up."

Ruby raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow high, hands settling on her narrow hips. "Does that mean there is someone else?"

Emma winced as she noticed the hope on both of her friends' faces. She desperately didn't want to disappoint them. All they wanted, sometimes more than anything, was for Emma to be happy. They knew that she had been dealt some rough cards during her lifetime and for once they wanted her to know the joy that they had felt countless times before.

"Maybe," Emma confirmed, before turning Mary-Margaret around to face the mirror once more and readjusting the veil, tears welling up in the brunette's eyes at the sight. "But today is about you. Let's focus on that for now."

Mary-Margaret nodded, wiping away the tears that threatened to spill before they could ruin her perfect executed make-up. With a deep breath, she turned towards the door, her shaky hand settling on the cold knob. "Okay. Let's do this."

* * *

><p><em>7:05 P.M.<em>

The wedding had proceeded perfectly.

Mary-Margaret looked gorgeous as she glided down the aisle towards her future husband. Tears shining in David's eyes as he lovingly gazed back at his bride. Emma was never one to cry at weddings. But these were two of her best friends. And as she fiddled with the ring that had been placed in her care – eyes misty and throat burning from choking back the short sobs - she couldn't help but wish that she were standing there instead, promising her life to someone else wholeheartedly.

And now, as she adjusted the top of the satin emerald bridesmaids dress, Emma glanced around the reception area – David and Mary-Margaret wrapped up in each other, foreheads never parting, dancing as if they were the only two in the room. Around them, the rest of the party was in full swing, waiters wearing gloves dished out champagne, fellow guests danced enthusiastically while the band was in full swing.

_The band._

For the first time since the wedding had started, Emma thought about him. Without a second thought, she raised her eyes to find his, glancing towards the stage where the rest of the band played. (And _god, she thought he couldn't get any more handsome_)

Killian played his guitar – the prized possession he had introduced her to during their night at the airport – singing backup to the cheesy love song. His dark slacks hugged his hips tightly, but the button up and vest is what sent her heart racing – the sleeves slightly rolled up to allow his arms better access to the instrument in hand.

Emma watched him, playing with passion as he bit his bottom lip in concentration, brows furrowing together as he hit the right notes accordingly. Seeing him like this definitely turned her on and it couldn't be helped that she started swaying to the music, her head bobbing in tune as she kept her eyes on him.

She was so focused on Killian, though, that she almost didn't hear the rough voice from behind her. A voice she never thought she'd hear again; that she had so desperately wished she'd never hear again.

"Emma Swan."

She didn't have to turn around to know who that voice belonged to – Neal Cassidy.


	3. Chapter 3

_7:10 P.M._

"Neal?"

Her voice sounded so small and weak that it almost didn't register that she had actually addressed him. Staring at the man in front of her, her mouth hung ajar, Emma felt her stomach turn into knots, her throat going dry in his presence. The preconceptions she had anticipated about this wedding weekend from hell were finally coming true – and just as she was beginning to enjoy herself too.

"Hey, babe," the man spoke, the loose tie hung sloppily against his suit as he sauntered closer. Emma felt as if she were going to vomit any minute – both from the shock of seeing him again after all the years and the fact that he reeked of alcohol.

Once a drunk alcoholic, always a drunk alcoholic.

Emma always felt weaker around him and she almost crawled back into herself (the old recollections of beatings and crying and meaningless apologies the next morning). Old habits die hard. She could almost feel his flesh against hers as she begged him to stop (chills running through her body now at the terrible nightmares).

"No," she commanded with a deep breath, placing a hand in front of him to stop. For once, Emma was thankful for tall heels, the stilettos putting her at eye level with her ex-boyfriend. She contemplated how he had even been invited in the first place (and then she remembered that he was a very distant cousin of David – and he was probably still crashing the wedding anyways. If David found out, he'd probably kill Neal).

"Oh, come on, Emma. It's so good to see you again after you left me two years ago," Neal smirked, taking another wobbly step closer to her. "Where ever did you go? You went out for burgers one day and never came back."

Emma scoffed, folding her arms across her chest (mostly an attempt to hide her cleavage that was on prominent display for the perv). "I'm surprised you even remember. Last I saw you were passed out on the couch from another hangover."

"Now don't be that way," he slurred, taking one last forward as his hand found her waist, bunching the emerald fabric up in his unstable hands. "How about a dance?"

Struggling against him, his hold firm around her body, his hips collided against hers and _god, she felt like she was going to throw up_. "No." The defiance felt feeble against his attempts, the crooked grin consuming his face before pulling her closer, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

"Okay, got something else in mind?" His mouth blew warm breath against her red-rimmed ear, making a tiny whimper leave her throat in protest. "Perhaps we should take this to my place."

"Neal, stop," she choked, unable to help the sobs that overtook her body as she weakly wrestled against his firm grip around her frame – one arm around her waist and the other holding onto her wrist. His dark chuckle sent an unnerving feeling through her, one that she remembered all too well.

"I believe the lady said no."

The next few seconds were a complete blur to Emma as an arm whipped around her, soundly connecting with Neal's nose in a resounding _crack_. Falling to the ground, his grip on Emma disappeared. She took the free moment to inhale wildly, trying to catch her breath with her hand held closely against her steadily beating heart.

"What the hell?" Neal cursed, his palm pressed soundly against his bleeding nose. He groaned in pain as he shakily stood up to face Killian, who had moved to stand in front of Emma. Eyeing the man in front of him, and perhaps a bit dizzy from the fall, Neal scoffed, raising his voice in anger, "You know what, take her. She was never that good in bed anyways."

Killian watched Neal stumble towards the exit, one hand placed against his bloody nose as he staggered off, before turning around to face Emma. His heart squeezed inside his chest at the sight of her tear stricken face, slightly red from embarrassment (it felt as if every pair of eyes in the reception were on them, watching, scrutinizing, _judging_).

"Swan, are you alright?" His voice was soft, blue eyes pleading. Killian cautiously placed his arm around her trembling shoulders when she timidly shook her head no, leading her off the dance floor to a nearby table in the corner of the lively room. "Come on, love."

Steadying her with both hands on her shoulders, he lowered Emma to the seat, the scrap of the metal legs against the floor made Killian wince as he pulled out the chair to sit in front of her. It hurt his heart to see her in this state – completely vulnerable and shell-shocked. He hadn't known her very long but she was an open book. Emma was strong and vivacious and beautiful. This scared little girl in front of him was not her.

Emma swallowed thickly, whipping the tears from her cheeks and exhaling loudly. "Thank you."

Killian nodded, a solemn vow that she understood - _anytime_. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really." Her voice sounded so small in the loud room, and Killian scooted his chair closer so that he might hear her better. He nodded in understand before she uncomfortably interjected once more. "But it might help."

"You have my full attention, Swan."

Emma drew a breath, squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and began. "Neal and I dated two years ago. We spent three good months together before something changed. He started becoming more aggressive towards me and he would often come in completely wasted. I…" She paused, Killian's eyes never wavered from her, reaching out to grasp her hand in his with a gentle squeeze to urge her to continue. "He, um…beat me nearly every night. Even when I threatened to tell the police he made me feel worthless, stating that they wouldn't care about a meaningless orphan like me. Most mornings he would apologize and beg me to stay because of how much he claimed that he loved me. And even towards the end when the abuse became sexual, I just…"

Emma felt like her throat was closing up. She couldn't breathe and suddenly it was too much again. The tears were threatening once more at the horrific memories. She had hoped that those days were over, something she'd never have to relive again. As her mouth went dry, she finally made eye contact with Killian, the disappointment written in his features – saddened that she had to endure something like that (no one deserved that, but especially not _her_).

"How did you escape?" he questioned in a hushed voice, changing the sensitive subject.

"One morning when he was too hung-over to be aware of my whereabouts, I convinced him to let me go get lunch for us. I packed my bags and never returned." As she spoke Emma was biting the inside of her cheek so hard that it's a miracle she hadn't bitten a chunk of it off already, her insides stirring violently like a storm.

"And you haven't seen him since then until tonight?"

Emma nodded her head in confirmation, feeling unable to speak all of a sudden. This feeling was something she had not been accustomed to. Killian stood up for her. She had barely known the man more than a few days and he had already punched her ex-boyfriend. And for a second (merely a nano-second) Emma wondered what she had gotten herself into.

How did she get here - with him? How could that one night at the airport change the entire course of her life? One minute she was fine, pure and simple, then the next she couldn't imagine her life without him in it in some form. The feelings overwhelming, Emma leaped up from her chair to wrap her arms around Killian. He gave a slight grunt at the press of her body against his, before he quickly loosened against her, his hands clutching at the emerald fabric around her waist.

"Thank you, Killian," she whispered into his ear, her warm cheek pressed against his. "If you hadn't stepped in, there's no way to know how tonight might have ended for me."

"It was the right thing to do, love," he breathed against her skin, warm and silky as she moved back to touch her forehead to his. Killian gave a chuckle before speaking, a smile tilting up the ends of his mouth. "Besides, you still owe me a dance."

"Killian…" she warned in almost a whine. So much had happened over the course of the wedding weekend that she had already forgotten about their promised dance. And right now all she wanted was to go back to her hotel room, change into her PJs, and sleep for days. But who could resist those pleading blue puppy dogs eyes that he was giving her, eyebrows arching up in amusement.

"Come on, Emma," Killian coaxed, sliding his hand into hers – sending a jolt up both their spines at the feeling of their fingers meshing together - and pulling her up to stand against him. "I promise it will make you feel better."

Emma gave a slight groan but she knew there was no protesting this. A promise was a promise (and she could already tell that he'd never let her forget it if she wavered). So mustering up all the strength she could, Emma followed.

Killian led her to the middle of the dance floor, a soft tuning playing in the background (_yeah he had definitely already planned this with his band members_) before he stopped and spun around to face her. He took a step closer and, on pure instinct, she took a step back – fear still written in her eyes from earlier, begging, pleading him.

"It's alright, Swan. It's just me," he whispered to her with assurance, cautiously wrapping an arm around her waist. "Just relax." With a soft sigh, Killian could feel her almost deflate in his arms, melting into his embrace. He took one more step closer until finally, _finally_, their bodies were pressed together, hearts beating against the other. Their hands were positioned out to the side – somewhat reminiscent of a classic waltz.

With grace, he moved them leisurely across the floor, his body pressing into hers at every angle, every move, and it was pure pleasure, giving both of them a high that neither had felt in years. It was almost like a drug, and Emma instantly craved to pull him even closer, her forehead resting against his cheek.

Emma could feel the blood fluidly flowing through her veins, heart pumping wildly inside. She had never been in love, but she would imagine it felt something like this – two souls becoming one, the primal need to be with that person (physically, spiritually, mentally), the feeling of _safety_. Emma had always sworn against love at first sight, but Killian Jones would make a believer out of her yet.

The music continued, soft, slow, _sensual_, as they moved against each other almost like two practiced lovers who had been doing this dance their whole lives. When she felt his lips press to that spot just below her ear, she stiffened for only a moment, finally allowing herself to lean into his embrace. As their dance continued, Killian moved his lips down her neck, gentle kisses peppering salty skin. And when he arrived at the spot where her neck and shoulder met, he darted out his tongue to taste her before gently sucking at her pulse point.

Emma let out a low moan at the feeling of him, his tongue doing wicked things and driving her mad with want and desire. Shifting every so slightly in their dance, she could feel Killian's arousal growing hard against her thigh (apparently she wasn't the only one with desire at the moment).

Killian groaned into her ear when she grinded against him, her hips colliding perfectly with his, seeking any kind of friction that their clothes would allow. "Perhaps we could, uh…"

Taking a leap, Emma stood up on the tips of her toes to nibble on his earlobe, causing Killian to grunt and giving Emma the opportunity to finish the sentence for him, panting the words that sent a jolt of heat through him. "Take this to my room."

* * *

><p><em>8:00 P.M.<em>

Emma had never been more thankful in her entire life for her hotel room and the reception to be in the same building.

The door had barely clicked shut behind them before Emma pounced, her lips molding to his as she pulled him closer, clawing at his vest. And when she couldn't get the buttons off after a few moments, Emma used her pent up frustrations to tear them off, the buttons popping loose and falling to the floor helplessly, along with his vest which she quickly shoved over his broad shoulders.

"Emma," he murmured against her lips, a breath caught between them, walking her backwards towards the bed where she landed with a soft bounce.

Emma giggled (and for a moment she felt light and dizzy and honestly, she had not even drank anything tonight – okay, maybe one glass of champagne) as she flopped back on the bed, her hair splaying around her like a golden halo. Killian tentatively worked his way on top of her, consciously keeping his full weight off of her.

"Emma-" he started once again before she cut him off with another searing kiss, mouths pressed tightly together before tongues explored, and Killian felt like he was loosing himself in her, trying his best to stay focused and not relinquish control of the situation.

He was too deep in thought to be able to protest as Emma locked her heels around his waist and unexpectedly flipped them over, her hips fitting perfectly against his as she straddled him, the emerald bridesmaid's dress she was wearing now being pushed higher up her creamy thighs. Emma ran her fingers over his chest, trying her best to undo the buttons of his shirt (thank god they were easier to manage than the ones on his vest). And when her fingers finally met his skin, she couldn't help but roll her hips into his, eliciting heavy pants from the pair.

It wasn't much longer, their lips still connected while hands roamed and explored, before Emma's fingers landed on his belt. She struggled against the latch trying her best to undo it until Killian place his hand on top of hers, sloppily detaching their lips.

"Swan, what are you doing?"

"I owe you," she huffed, swatting his hand away and attempting once more to unlock his belt.

"No, you don't," he urged right as she managed to open the belt, slowly pulling down the zipper of his pants and palmed his straining erection in the process. "Emma, you don't have to do this."

She stopped, jerking her hands away from him as if she had touched a hot stove. Brows furrowed and lips pressed into a tight, thin line, she crossed her arms across her chest. "What is it Killian? Don't tell me you don't want this. Because obviously you do."

Running a hand through his messy hair (where her fingers had been only moments ago, scrapping and grabbing), Killian sat up, moving out from under her to rest his body against the headboard of the bed. "Emma, I've wanted you from the first moment I saw you. But, love, you're too vulnerable for this right now. You are not yourself, your judgment is clouded." Killian paused, finally allowing his gaze to meet hers.

He felt like he had been punched in the gut. Her face was twisted in confusion – part anger, part hurt. Reaching his hand out towards her, he clarified, "I just don't want you to do anything that you might regret."

Shoving his hand away, Emma sat up straighter, scooting further away from him in the process, her dress swishing against the stiff hotel bed sheets. "So you don't want to have sex with me?"

"Swan, you know I do. I think we just need to take it slow. This is all still new –"

"Get out."

He couldn't help the way his mouth hung ajar at her outburst, taken aback by the harshness in her tone. "Excuse me?"

"I said – Get. Out." Her teeth gritted firmly, Killian watched her clench her fists at her thighs, her face turning red and the tears already stinging.

Killian shook his head, his shoulders falling in rejection. "Come on, love. I know you don't mean that. You're still upset over Neal and-"

Interrupting him, she jumped up from her place on the bed, her breathing uneven and blood now boiling, "Shut the hell up, Killian Jones, and get out of my room."

He stood there for a minute in confusion (how did this situation go from one extreme to the other so quickly?), watching her run around the room, gathering his clothes before she threw them at him, the tears now flowing freely down her face as she pointed towards the door. "Go! Get out of here!" A pause. "I don't _want_ you here anymore!"

Trying his best to keep his own tears at bay, he gave her a quick nod, deciding it best to leave before turning and walking out (bare-chested, clothes still in hand when the door slammed noisily behind him).

It wasn't long before she collapsed, crying herself to sleep, praying that the whole night had actually been a dream.

* * *

><p><em>3:15 A.M.<em>

It wasn't.

And she was stupid.

God, she was such an idiot.

* * *

><p><em>11:25 A.M. – The Next Day<em>

Once again, Emma found herself being shoved into another crowded airplane (except this time she was finally heading back home), children screaming and couples arguing. But all she was looking for were blue eyes.

She never found them.

* * *

><p><em>12:00 P.M. – Two Weeks Later<em>

"I can't believe I let you talk me in to this," Emma grumbled, holding the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she reapplied her lipstick one last time, looking in the car mirror once more before exiting.

"Oh, come on, Emma," Ruby exclaimed happily from the other end of the line. "It will be good for you! Ever since you returned from the wedding you've done nothing but mope. This coffee date is just what you need!"

"I have not moped," Emma retorted, fixing her skirt outside of the coffee shop as she leaned against the doorframe. "Okay, so maybe a little. My head just wasn't in a good place at the time."

"And that's why now is the perfect time to get you back out there."

Emma huffed. There was never any winning with her best friend. "Fine. But this better be good, Ruby. What did you say he looked like?"

"He's attractive. What's the expression? Tall, dark and handsome. Trust me, you'll know him when you see him."

Inhaling and exhaling, Emma gave herself one last once over before placing her hand on the doorknob and ending the call with a click, "Wish me luck."

For it to be noon in this city, the quaint coffee shop was rather slow, a few table occupied by chatty people, a few college students typing away furiously on laptops. She stood in the doorway a few moments, studying her surrounds. _This is so stupid_, Emma thought to herself, almost turning around to exit before a glimpse of blue caught her attention.

No way.

It couldn't be.

"Killian?" she questioned as he leaped up from the table, smile broad across his face. To be someone she had thrown out of her hotel room, he looked rather happy to see her.

"Swan. It's so good to see you again." He took a step closer (blue flannel shirt, tight skinny jeans and god, he smelled divine) before Emma held her hand up, urging him not to come any closer. Her heart was racing and she could feel the blood pumping in her ears. It felt as if the tiny room was closing in on her and she suddenly couldn't breathe.

With her lips trembling, Emma swallowed thickly before speaking, murmuring to herself, "I can't do this. I've gotta go."

She had barely turned on her heels when Killian caught her arm tenderly, pulling her back against him – his voice weak and saddened. "Emma, don't run away again."

Ignoring the crack in his voice (and the people now staring) she angrily spun around to face him, finger poking into his chest with vigor. "You _knew_ it was going to be me."

"Ruby sought _me_ out, Emma, I swear," he promised, holding his hands up in surrender. "And when she asked me to meet you here, it seemed like fate giving me a second chance with you. I had to see you again, love."

Emma never knew why her feelings were always so conflicted when it came to him. They had one perfect night at the airport (that night that felt like a beautiful dream) and then the disastrous wedding night (which had truly felt like a nightmare). But now he was here. He was sincere. And she was honestly surprised that her high walls and emotional issues had not scared him off yet.

And the way he looked at her as if she had hung the stars in the sky, gave her a feeling deep in her gut that she had never felt. And maybe that's what scared her so much - the commitment, or more precisely, the worry of how soon things could go from good to worse. She didn't want another Neal situation. He had ruined her trust for any man, yet Killian had easily earned it in one simple night.

He was different. And suddenly Emma realized that this was a good thing.

Ducking her head in embarrassment, Emma took a breath and spoke. "I'm sorry for what I did, Killian. Honestly. I was in a bad place and it truly seemed like a good solution at the time. I just wanted to feel good and I apologize for trying to use you like that. It was wrong."

Killian's mouth tilted into an understanding smile, giving her a quick nod. "Swan –"

"No, let me finish. I also wanted to say thank you," she interrupted, wincing a little at how pathetic she probably sounded. But he was still here, looking at her with those too-blue eyes and nodding in encouragement (so she continued). "Thank you for keeping control and knowing me even better than I know myself. Any other guy would have used my weak state to their advantage. But you didn't. You're different."

Killian released a breath that he had probably been holding since she had walked through the door. Relief. Joy. _Hope_. Reaching up to cup her cheek with his hand, he couldn't help the grin that somehow worked its way onto his face. "Apology accepted, love. Now what do you say we have our coffee date as planned?"

Biting her lip in contemplation, Emma caught his hand before he walked off, pulling their hands palm to palm. "One thing first."

"Anything, Swan."

"I want us to start over. Let's forget everything that has happened these past two weeks - the airport, the flight, the wedding, the fight," she added with a grimace, full well knowing that last one was her fault. "I want to give us a second chance. From the beginning."

She watched him consider her proposal internally before he took a quick step backwards, letting go of her hand in the process (and for a second she had thought she had lost him for good). But then he did something she didn't expect. He extended his hand out towards her.

"Hello. I'm Killian Jones."

With a smile, she took it and gave it a firm shake – unable to control the smirk on her face as she 'introduced' herself once more. "Emma Swan. It's very nice to meet you, Killian."


End file.
